In You
by pin twist
Summary: Severus Snape is unhappy with his feelings toward a certain boy in his class. Little does he know that the boy feels the same way. Unfortunately for both of them, Snape isn't the first one to find out about Harry's feelings. It's someone who has very mu
1. Chapter 1

In You

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of J.K. Rowling.

For my friend Laura, who introduced me to Harry Potter, to fanfiction, to slash and then taught me HTML. This story is my vain attempt to thank her for all of that. I wrote this for her seventeenth birthday, this is _her _pairing.

….

Chapter One

Severus Snape was sitting in his office when there was a knock on the door, a little tremoring thing, resonating with uncertainty.

"Come in!" He barked and a little figure in red and gold slid in round the door. He stood, shaking slightly, several feet back from Severus's desk.

The growl went immediately out of Sev's voice and he felt his throat thicken with something bordering apprehension and his tongue swell up and stick to the roof of his mouth. "What is it Potter?"

The small boy drew a quavering breath and shifted nervously from one foot to another. "I-I was wondering if I could ask you something Professor."

The air was very silent and very dark all of a sudden, laced with something intangibly shimmering on the brink of acute starvation.

Harry bit his lip, eyes flickering to soft darkness as his lashes briefly kissed his ashen cheek. Severus waited and saw the throb in Harry's neck as he swallowed with visible effort, and tried to find his voice.

He edged several nervous steps forward, one hand twisted fiercely into the fabric of his robes, little knuckles capped ferociously with white. "I-I… have this sort of itch that won't go away." His voice had gone very quiet.

Severus licked his lips, heart pounding. "Yes?"

Harry fell forward another few steps, close enough now that Snape could here the boy's troubled breathing, the slight drag as his lungs took in breath. "I don't really know how, how, how t-to make it go away." His stammering brought a tremor to the pit of Severus' stomach, a little flush of blood that began to trickle down to his groin. "And I thought that, that maybe you could help me." His fist twisted tighter into the knot of fabric and he glanced up, eyes glimmering darkly with suppressed pain and pricked with little stars of hunger.

Severus caught his breath, pulse drumming in his ears. "Of course. Just…just come here."

Harry slid forward until his hips were up against the desk.

"You-" Severus' voice caught, "you'll have to come around."

Harry crept along the desk and Sev pushed his chair back so that Harry was facing him, the small of his back pressed into the rim of the desk. Sev was suddenly a hundred times more conscious of every facet of his body: his eyes were burning, his lips sighing, breath singing and his flesh, his flesh breathed.

Harry didn't look up, his eyes were everywhere else in the room, his head tilted down, dark hair sliding into his eyes, his fingers twisting and untwisting in the fabric of his robes.

"Now, what exactly is wrong?"

Harry licked his lips, "I…it's…" his voice suddenly grew heart-shatteringly soft, his eyes swollen with pain, "it's terrible. I don't know quite what it is but there's this feeling, like this craving, almost an itch but it's-" His voice broke to a whisper, "it's inside."

Sev could hardly find his voice. "Show me where."

Harry slid a trembling hand to the fabric between his legs and wound his fingers there, in his eyes a silent question. "Please professor, help me."

By this point, Sev had lost all power of speech, he could only nod mutely and instead of trying to give the boy instructions he stood quite suddenly from his chair and lifted the slender boy beneath the arms and set him on the desk. Harry sat on the edge, legs dangling, blinking solemnly, his little mouth pressed into a grim knot of sorrow.

Sev took him by his narrow hips, and slid him back a little bit, the fabric of his robes bunching up above his knees. Sev slid his hands up along Harry's flannel trousers, pushing Harry's robes far above his waist. He put his hands on the insides of Harry's knees and pushed his skinny legs gently apart. Harry didn't move, but now his eyes were on his teacher, a little of the fear in his bottle green gaze starting to melt into something like relief. Sev's hands rested on the inside of Harry's knees and there between Harry's legs was a tell-tale bulge in the gray fabric. Harry's eyes slowly met Sev's and he started to say something but Sev quickly put his finger to the boy's warm lips and let it rest there against Harry's half-open mouth. The moment was long and he just looked into Harry's eyes and filled them with silent understanding.

With shaking fingers, Sev reached up and pulled at the thick, leather buckle that ran low around Harry's slender hips. He undid the belt but the zipper took him about three times before he could still his trembling fingers enough to pull firmly down and part the worn fabric. Harry jolted like he'd been hit with an electrical shock and his legs suddenly began to tremble uncontrollably. Severus leaned forward and put his mouth to Harry's ear, "Shh," He breathed and as he did so he slid his fingers in past the waistband of Harry's boxers.

A hissing intake of breath severed Harry's lungs as he sucked in a current of air in delighted shock and twisted sharply sideways on the desk. Severus's fingers coiled warm along the length of Harry's erection and slid down a little ways, before tugging back up. He was bent forward, mouth now pressed against Harry's temple, his other hand on Harry's sharp little protruding hip. He shifted his fingers slightly and Harry fell forward against him with a jagged cry, mouth wrenched open in agonized ecstasy.

He was breathing now, as if he'd just run a marathon and as Sev slid his hand up underneath Harry's sweater he could feel the rapid contractions of his diaphragm, and the skin pulled tight against his ribs every time he drew in breath. He struggled to string words in between in each labored gasp "P-professor, please do it again, I can't-" His voice broke as Severus reached down and tugged Harry's trousers down to his ankles, and slid his boxers round his knees. Harry wriggled his hips until Sev could pull the tangle of fabric from between his legs and Harry's bare bottom rested on Severus's marble top desk.

Sev paused for a moment to push of handful of dark hair out of his eyes, so that he could see Harry's smooth thighs, now spread aching and far apart, breathlessly white against the polished ebony of Sev's desk and the virgin flesh of his untouched erection straining upwards and throbbing with neglect. Harry let out moan of frustration as Sev's hand was momentarily drawn away and when he reached down again, Harry squirmed against Severus's hand, pressing himself closer into Sev's hot fist.

Sev pulled one way then, slowly stroked back the other and Harry let out a hot little gasp and wound his hands around Sev's neck, arching desperately against him and squirming closer against his hands. His voice was broken with emotion "Please… oh please…." Sev had started a punishing rhythm as he brought his hand agonizingly slow, up and down and he felt Harry's cheeks sear with desire as Harry rose up against him and pressed his burning cheek to Severus's neck, the hot half-circle of his mouth resting with fire against an artery in his throat. Then Sev began to pump faster and faster but still not fast enough, driving Harry to the brink of madness only because the more Harry squirmed in desperation, the harder Sev could feel himself growing. Harry's hips began to churn in time with Severus' hand and Harry had slid forward to the edge of the desk, his bony knees pressed wildly into Sev's stomach.

And then suddenly as he felt Harry's entire body shuddering with the effects of pre-orgasm, he stopped his hand and brought his fists up beneath Harry's shoulder blades to keep the boy from falling off the desk. Harry let out a shriek of frustration and pressed vainly forward into Sev's stomach, his body aching for some kind of friction, a wild torment in his eyes as he tried to arch up into Sev.

But Sev was much stronger than the boy and he caught Harry's wrists in his hands, and with a gentle kind of power he pushed Harry onto his back against the desk. "No! Prof-" but Severus brought his hand against the boy's burning mouth and smothered his desperate words. Then he pulled out his wand and whispered a spell, binding Harry's wrists in temporary knots against the surface of the desk. With the knowledge he'd been chained, Harry cried out in weary frustration, and his shoulders began to shake silently with a kind of heaving, exhausted sob.

It broke Sev's heart to see it but Harry had no idea what was going on, no idea what was about to come. Sev felt himself ache in response to the contractions of Harry's shuddering shoulders, felt himself grow swollen and painfully tight in his pants as he now pushed Harry's sweater up to his armpits so that the boy's entire naked body was laid out to him, including his narrow waist and angular hips and the slight bone structure in his fragile wrists and collar bones. Harry's eyes were squeezed shut in anguish though his erection had hardly gone away, it laid now against his stomach and Sev drank it in with hungry, soot-stained eyes. All along Harry's ashen cheeks were spots of heated color, muted bursts of feverish flush that had erupted all down his neck and disappeared beneath the collar of his tattered sweater.

Sev reached down and with fumbling fingers undid the gnarled laces of Harry's shoes, and pulled them off, sliding his pants and shorts to the floor.

He ran his hands up Harry's thighs and saw Harry's hips jerk in response; he nearly spent himself as he saw Harry wrench sideways in agony, twisting his slender wrists in the unyielding binds. He couldn't hold back anymore, it was too cruel. After all, this was all Harry's first time.

He bent down now, tucking his hair behind his ears and laid his lips on the tip of Harry's erection. Harry's mouth twisted suddenly open, eyes going wide. He put his hands on Harry's hips, and this time licked his lips against that warm, wet peak of Harry's flesh. A shudder jarred Harry's frame and he shut his eyes again, arms straining against the ropes. Sev parted his lips, and now took half of Harry into his mouth; warm, wet flesh sliding flawlessly against warm, wet flesh. He saw Harry's jaw clench and between his gritted teeth he let out a hiss of pained delight.

He let himself relish that for several moments before sliding down again, this time taking Harry's entire length heatedly between his teeth. He began the rhythm he had set before, but faster this time, that wild blur of obsidian shadows that pulse in your eyes when you're on the edge of consciousness. Harry thrust up into him again and again, his breath now a series of broken gasps. For a moment Sev was almost afraid because he swore he heard Harry's breath tear a hole in his lungs.

They came so close together. Harry's jaw ground tight in agonized ecstasy as he held himself back with the strength of everything he possessed, and Sev held back to until he saw that eruption in Harry's eyes and saw the convulsions of Harry's stomach. And when he saw it, he drew his mouth away and undid the ties and Harry rose up against him, before it came. He wound his legs tight around Sev's hips, and with numb fingers tugged at the buttons of Sev's robes until they broke lose and he slid his hands in against Sev's slender ribcage and with one last shattering cry he ground himself into the warm flesh of Severus's stomach and came in pearl studded convulsions of pure delight and shuddering parallels of undiscovered pleasure and as Sev felt the warm rush of fluids and Harry's hot erection pressed against him he exploded in time with Harry and his world broke in diamonds before his eyes.

Then Harry's lips found his mouth and he kissed him in the most searing, passionate, innocent and meaningful kiss that was ever given in all the world.

"Thank you," Harry breathed and then Sev woke up.

….

to be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

In You

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Ms. J.K. Rowling.

Chapter Two

….

He sat up very suddenly, his heart an earthquake in his chest, his breath a hideous drag in the violent quiet of early morning. Dawn was streaking in through the windows in watercolor grays and through the pale light he could see his erection jutting plainly through the sheets.

He pushed his fingers into his eyes and felt the heat in his temples beginning to fade; the pulse in his groin, however, refused to subside. He threw back the sheets and pulling on a robe, he went silently into his office. He took a seat in his chair and pressed his hands against the cool surface of the desk, as if in the hope that it would freeze the tempest in his heart. He shifted his weight in the chair and his erection gave a nervous jump.

They were getting harder to deal with.

Every night a different plague erupted in his mind; a festering of emotions that rotted in his brain. Sick criminal fantasies consumed him night after unending night, wicked visions of lasciviousness burning into him like an iron; and always of the same dark-haired boy, the slender child with quivering knees and urgency in his crystal eyes. He never knew dreams could be so cutting, so raw, so _wicked._

He felt the perverseness of a thousand shifting lechers, a sordidness that he carried deep within his breast and not simply because the dreams were so sick, but because he _enjoyed_ them. In the early days, when he went for a week with an empty head, a shell of happiness formed around his heart. But deep within his twisting gut, he yearned for them; every second his head grew drained of pictures, he yearned for them.

It wasn't only the dreams anyway. Even the weeks his sleep was quiet there would be a desperate shuddering throughout him, a craving for the feelings that erupted when he thought of the little boy who lived. For even though the images faded the feelings burned feverish in his mind for days afterward, emotions so true to what he wished to feel that they rang like a burnished echo forever in his ears.

The one last night had been perhaps the most searing yet and if he shut his eyes he could still taste crushed peppermints and boyish cologne and see the stain of love-making burning roses into the boy's frosted cheeks.

With a hiss of frustration he shot up out of the chair and stood with a tautness to his shoulders, in the middle of the room. His erection throbbed against his leg and he felt a weakness growing in him, to _deal_ with it, anything to make it go away. A sudden pulse of clamoring emotion broke open in his chest and he fell forward as his lower body twitched, fingers gripping like a vice to the edge of his marble desk.

Agony moved in him and all of a sudden his eye caught a flash of silver atop a stack of papers on his desk. It was the little, studded knife he'd confiscated from Draco Malfoy in class the previous week.

He'd forgotten to give it back after Mr. Malfoy had been foolishly flaunting it before his wide-eyed classmates. Severus had been quick to snatch it before Neville Longbottom lost a toe or a more grave disaster resulted and he'd meant to give it back but forgotten.

He went quietly around the other side of the desk and took the knife into his hand. The steel felt cold against his palm, seemed to numb his veins, splintering his blood to ice and shift his heart into a knot of iron. He turned it over in his hand and saw that one side was set entirely in emeralds.

A tide of anguish flared within him, like a knife set deep in his gut. There had been a time when he _detested _the color green, but somehow along the way things like that had dissolved, everything had changed and now there were only pictures.

With a quickening of breath, he set the knife against the inside of his arm and sunk the blade, with fervent pressure, against his flesh.

The skin split and it took a moment for the blood to rise in a ruby stripe along the silver in the blade.

He felt a little coil of tension loosen slightly in his stomach as he watched the blood run onto his marble desk. The same marble desk in fact that Harry's heated legs had stuck to only hours before, as he writhed in dampened sheets.

A violent suction of air into his lungs; he readjusted his sweat-slick fingers along the handle of the blade and drew it sideways across his wrist, sinking just a fraction deeper as he tried to dispel all memories of the dream. He watched the blood rise for a moment with a shuddering satisfaction.

His erection had begun to fade and the burning in his cheeks had cooled. But when he shut his eyes, images still burned coal against his lids. His fingers cramped into a fist, nails digging crescents into the flesh of his palm and he tilted the knife to a different angle and drew it parallel across a network of blue veins.

Seething satisfaction; he made another little slice and felt the drag in his breath catch. He needed to bleed away the sickness that pulsed beneath his skin, needed to cut away the disease that blackened so near his heart, he needed to- his breath faltered. He had always been a firm believer in punishment, the only real cure for sin and as he watched the blood pool on the marble, it was punishment for dreams and punishment for thinking and for feeling and for simply being what he _was._

Through the fever of bleeding hatred he couldn't see, couldn't tell that what he felt wasn't purely lust, the power of it all had seared a hole straight through him and his eyes were shut off from the truth that it was something much, much more.

….

At almost the exact same moment on the other side of the castle Harry Potter jolted awake, heart hammering in his ears. The only noise in the dormitory was his racing breath, his gasping as he sat up and curled one leg beneath him, trying to stop the tremors in his limbs. It was another of those dreams. Harry dug his fists into his eyes and felt for a moment he might be sick, the blood still sticking black to the insides of his eyes.

He had them constantly now. They started out so beautifully always, him and… Harry licked his lips. He'd tried to deny it the first few times, there must be hundreds of thin, dark haired men who smelled like midnight shadows and who had such black, black eyes. But as he began to think of him during the day and during his class, and during lunch and really just _so_ much of the time, he realized it was staring him dead on in the face.

The most unlikely person too. Harry'd tried to think on it, but making sense of the matter really hadn't helped him in the least. Maybe it was because he was the only person who really took Harry for what he was, not what he supposed to be. He didn't expect Harry to be the golden child, in fact he splattered him with mud whenever he got the chance. And he wasn't always overlooking Harry's faults. He didn't see Harry as The Boy Who Lived, he saw him as that irritating little dark haired thing that sat in the front row of his potions class. To him Harry was just a boy, nothing more. Then of course it still made no sense to develop an attachment for someone who seemed to loathe every breath Harry drew into his lungs, but Harry had always been the unconventional type.

He'd realized that when he'd gotten a furious crush on Dean Thomas in his third year and now it was easier because everybody knew Harry's… preference. Or at least his close friends anyway.

He'd started having the dreams several months ago, very, _very_ explicit little things they were and Harry reveled in them, though he burned with shame whenever he recalled them during daylight hours. He knew it was half-sick yet there was something in him stronger that didn't care. It was just recently the dreams had started turning blacker.

They always ended now in violence; horrible, gut wrenching sickness. Once they'd been just finishing and the minister of magic had come out of the closet and shot Severus in the head. He lowered the pistol as the sheets spread scarlet and just stared at Harry, and stared and stared and Harry'd woken up screaming and Ron had run over and told Harry his eyes were on fire with something and Harry had laid back down on the sweat soaked sheets and not been able to sleep the whole night.

Then in another one Dumbeldore had walked in and taken Harry by the hair and dragged him to the potions room and stuck his face in a vat of bubbling green until his skin melted and Harry had screamed and screamed but in the dream, he wasn't himself, he was Severus and he'd watched his own face bubble like wax.

And in another one Ron had walked in and started yelling then he threw up all over the bed and he wouldn't stop and Harry had taken him by the shoulders and shouted at him to stop but he couldn't and it was everywhere and Harry could smell it and when he woke up he could still smell it and couldn't look at Ron.

There were dozens of them and every night they started out the same but always ended differently. The one last night had been the worst yet. Like all the others it started out the same but once they'd kissed Severus had ripped himself away and he'd taken a knife from the dresser and started to make slashes on his arms and on his chest and his face and the blood was _everywhere _and Harry had felt so _sick _but he couldn't make him stop no matter what he did. He finally took the knife but Severus just slid down the bed and bled all over and Harry had hunched over into the blood and cried for him to stop and he held the knife and woke up.

Harry blinked, his eyelashes stuck with saltwater. He hadn't even realized he'd been crying. He ran a hand across his nose and was glad because his legs had stopped shaking. He could hear Ron breathing as he slept, a soft noise that stirred the shadows beyond Harry's curtains and should have made him feel at ease but did not.

The moonlight spilled in from the window and made a puddle of silver on the floor. Harry shut his eyes. _ Like the blood._

He swung his legs over the bed. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't do it. He had to stay awake. He pulled a sweater on over his pajamas and slid out the door and down the steps into the common room. The fire burned low in a fever of glowing embers and Harry paused to warm his hands but realized also that this was too conducive to sleep. If he sat by the fire his eyes would close in moments and his head would swell once more with sickness. He climbed silently through the portrait hole and went away down the hall.

He had no idea where he was going, but walking helped keep sleep from veiling his eyes. He kept going down staircase after staircase after staircase until he realized with a start that he'd wondered all the way down to the dungeons. Just down the hall, was the iron studded door that led to the potions room.

Harry's pulse began to serenade rather loudly in his ears. He swallowed, his throat dry. He walked several steps towards the door and stopped, staring. He brought his hand up along the door. "Oh, Sev…" he breathed and then a moment later his heart stopped as a hand came down upon his shoulder and fingers ground like iron into his skin.

He'd forgotten his invisibility cloak and _oh fuck_ his world was over.

….

to be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

In You

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Ms. J.K.Rowling.

Chapter Three

WARNING: This chapter contains extreme abuse/violent material. Please don't read if you're not comfortable with non-con situations.

….

Harry couldn't breathe; he'd forgotten how to, he didn't know what to do, didn't know what to do, didn'tknowwhattodo. He was so afraid he was going to be sick but he shut his eyes very tight and breathed sharp and thin between his teeth and then felt himself being turned around, slowly around.

The hand didn't leave Harry's shoulder, but he tripped back unconsciously against the wall, shoulder hitting hard against the brick. It took everything he could to raise his eyes and see who the _fuck it was._

_Please don't let it be him, oh please don't let it be him, anyone any one but him…_

It wasn't Professor Snape.

And it wasn't a teacher. Harry's breath let out in a little hiss of horror.

It was Blaise Zabini, mouth split open into a wide, horrible smile. He was still in his day robes, the sleeves rolled up his large, muscular forearms and his tie was undone, hanging limp around his thick neck, which made Harry's stomach tighten nervously for some reason he couldn't place.

"Well look who it is… wondering around on the other side of the castle in the middle of the night. It's a strange thing Mr. Potter, for a Gryffindor to be up at this hour and on _our _side of the castle."

Harry didn't say anything. He wished Blaise would take his meaty hand off his shoulder. He clenched his teeth and looked resolutely past Blaise's head, into the flickering darkness past the torch lights.

"I think you owe me an explanation Mr. Potter, especially since it's so very late and all."

Harry said nothing, he felt Blaise's fingers fisting softly in the fabric of his sweater. He fought the urge to twist violently away and backed harder against the wall.

"Not going to answer? Well maybe I can help you out then. It just so happens that I heard what you said when you were uh… _embracing _that door." His lips curled around the word with unmistakable derision. Harry felt his cheeks burn with shame. "Something about a particular _Potions Master?_"

Harry's eyes went wide with horror and nothing he could have done, could have kept Blaise from seeing the burn of emotion in response to that statement. His legs started shaking and his mouth fell open a little bit in a sort-of resigned melancholy, his eyes turning up towards the ceiling, suddenly the color of hot poison and despair.

"So… Harry Potter has a crush; yet how surprising, his own Professor. Who could have guessed it? And the one who _hates_ him the most at that. The only person in the school who isn't groveling all over little Harry Potter, he falls in love with." Blaise let out a loud, barking laugh and Harry seized the opportunity to wrench his shoulder out of Blaise's grip. He hated that despite his size Blaise was so intelligent. Why couldn't he be like Dudley and lack brain where he had muscle tissue? Why oh why oh why oh-

"It's ridiculous to me Potter, but then again, you always were." He stepped closer in towards Harry and leant forward slightly, lips like acid in a sneer. There was dark triumph in his eyes; Harry felt sick.

Harry slid a little down the wall, stones rippling against his shoulder blades. He swallowed back panic, if he didn't do something now he would be utterly trapped. He had to try something.

He screwed up his eyes in anger and lifted himself off the wall, trying to raise himself the extra six inches to Blaise's face. "So what? What's it to you? What do you want?"

"_I_ don't want anything Potter. What interests me is the fact that you seem to want something very badly."

Harry's felt like the odd colors from the torches nearby were melting, he felt feverish, his world was blurring. "I don't know what you're talking about," he ground out.

"Oh, but I think you know perfectly well what I'm talking about," Blaise replied coldly, leaning forward to place one hand on the tile by Harry's head.

Harry slid a little more to the left, shoulders drawn tight around his arms. His teeth were closed very tight. "Look Blaise, I don't know what you want but how bout you just leave me the fuck alone?"

Blaise let out an icy breath, "Ooh, temper, temper Potter. That will never do; nothing was ever solved in anger, you of all people should know that." He grinned wickedly, teeth very white and large and even.

Harry felt a shudder of sickness go through him and he decided this was it. He'd had enough. Cheeks dark with anger he dipped under Blaise's thick arm and started to sprint away down the hall.

"Ah, ah, ah." Blaise was faster than he looked. Harry forgot that he had played chaser for four years on the Slytherin House Team, before he'd been thrown off for biting someone during a match, and for another time when a Hufflepuff had hit him particularly hard with a Bludger and Blaise had gone mad with anger, chased the boy down and beaten him with his own stick until he was unconscious.

He caught Harry's wrist easily in his, before Harry had gone two steps, and _squeezed_. "Not so fast Potter."

Harry let out a shout of protest. "Let me go!" he cried, and tried desperately to twist his wrist away. "Don't touch me!"

Blaise smiled unpleasantly. He pulled on Harry's wrist, and Harry, caught at a violently unpleasant angle, was forced to slide two steps closer to Blaise, body bent awkwardly to escape the pain.

"This is quite an unpleasant situation in which we find ourselves. Think for a moment of how I must feel: presented with such a fascinating bit of information. Think of the pressures this new state of consciousness poses upon me. Should I tell the Headmaster? I suppose you would entreat me not to, and yet, it is already weighing heavily on my conscience. The guilt, I fear is more than I can bear. Or maybe, an easier solution yet—go directly to the Potions Master himself. I feel he would find this piece of information _ever_ so valuable don't you agree?"

Harry shook his head soundlessly eyes welled up with pain. "Please don't tell…" he breathed. "Oh please,"

Blaise paused to look thoughtful, but didn't loosen his grip on Harry's wrist. "Yes, you say that to me Potter and yet I must ask myself the fatal question, why? Why shouldn't I tell? How is this situation going to do me any good except cause unneeded stress?"

Harry's eyes were stinging with tears of pain and his mouth was open, breath coming sharp in short gasps. "Please- just -don't tell."

Blaise sighed despairingly. "Again, Potter, I'm afraid that isn't going to be enough. What I mean to say rather is, what's in it for me?"

Harry's teeth were gritted, molars grinding and he shut his eyes in agony. "I'll do anything you say, just please please please please don't tell."

Blaise's face lit up in a sinister grin, and he let go of Harry's wrist. "Brilliant, just smashing Potter, I knew you'd be up for it."

Harry dropped to one knee, breath coming loose from his lungs with relief. There were black spots rippling on the corners of his vision.

Blaise dropped down in front of Harry, mimicking his pose on one knee. He was grinning now, unstoppably. He put his hand under Harry's chin and forced Harry's eyes up to lock with his. "I've been missing something Potter for a long time, missing someone who'll do what they're told, who'll give me what I want, when I want it. It looks like luck is in my favor Potter, and you're just the thing for the job."

Harry had slid down to both his knees, breaking eye contact with Blaise. He sat on his shaking legs and wouldn't look Blaise in the eye. Blaise had him where the wall curved, so he was cornered by an edge of stone; he couldn't get away.

Blaise took Harry's jaw in his hand again. Harry pulled back slightly, but Blaise clamped tighter, fingers digging into the pressure points on either side, forcing Harry's mouth open slightly. Harry risked a look up and saw Blaise's smile, more veiled now, his eyes low-lidded with some sick delight. There was a slight darkness in his cheeks.

Harry tried to close his mouth, leaned back a little to twist away.

"Open your mouth Potter."

Harry wouldn't.

"I said open your_ fucking _mouth Potter!" Blaise hit him across the face.

Harry let out a gasp of pain; he felt his lip split open. He sat absolutely still, stunned and tasted blood around his teeth. Tears began to drip down his hot cheeks without a sound.

"Let's just make sure things are very, very clear. Rules: You will do what I want, when I say I want it and ask no questions. If you mention this to anyone, your secret's out. You're done, Snape knows. Got me?"

Harry didn't move.

"I said you _got me_?"

Blaise raised his hand; Harry flinched, then nodded, and horrified with himself, put his face in his hands, shoulders constricting in a silent sob.

"Good." Blaise stood up quickly, and not waiting for Harry to follow, hauled him up by the collar of his sweater. "Come with me." His words were urgent suddenly and thick. Harry felt numb.

He didn't let go of Harry's collar, and walking very quickly, half-pushed, half-dragged Harry along the hallway. Harry didn't notice where they were going, Blaise was moving too fast for him to get his footing, so he tripped along, half-choking.

Blaise brought them to an old bathroom, down in the lower section of the dungeons, and pushed Harry in front of him, so that Harry tripped partway in, barely catching himself on the edge of a chipped porcelain sink.

Blaise gripped Harry by his upper forearm and pulled him to his feet, then shoving him roughly against the dirty tile wall, he pushed Harry face first into the grimy brick and Harry saw a smear when his head moved, a dark print from his mouth full of blood. Blaise twisted him around, grabbing both Harry's arms with one hand, stretching them behind Harry's back and with the other hand took a fistful of Harry's hair, tipping his head back sharply, bloody mouth open.

He pressed himself up against Harry's body and Harry could feel his erection pressing into Harry's stomach. He was all hot and disgusting and Harry felt sick and crushed.

He put his large, wet mouth over Harry's and stuck his tongue far into Harry's mouth so that Harry choked and gagged, but Blaise held him there, fingers in his dark hair. When he pulled away Harry coughed and coughed all over and there was blood on Blaise's shirt and Blaise hit him in the mouth again and Harry sagged against the wall.

Blaise rubbed himself against Harry and smiled lazy and low-lidded and slow. His breath was coming out all over Harry's face and Harry tried to turn away, to slide away but he was held fast by pain. He was fumbling for the entrance in Harry's pajamas, large fingers slipping until he gave up and just thrust his hand between Harry's legs.

"You're such a fucking girl it's unbelievable. No wonder I've wanted to _fuck _you for ages." Blaise laughed drunkenly, fingers finally sliding into Harry's pants.

Harry felt sick felt sick, felt oh so sick.

"And I was always afraid I was turning out to be a faggot like you. You like it up the ass Potter don't you? And you like it shoved down your throat. I know all about you and your pretty, pretty mouth."

He yanked Harry's pants down his knees and Harry felt cold and his bare bottom stuck against the dirt on the wall and Blaise was pressing all over him everywhere and he couldn't see and couldn't breathe.

Blaise was pulling on him, rubbing against him, almost frustrated and Harry shook with sickness. "You fucking whore, what's the matter? What the fuck is wrong with you? Not old enough for you? Not greasy enough for you?"

Harry let out a wail of pain then shut his mouth and Blaise hit him again, this time on his side.

Blaise was snorting, frustrated, he pinned Harry against the wall and ripped his sweater up his stomach so that Harry was pressed there, all exposed and shuddering, a bruise already blooming on his white hip.

"Fuck you useless whore, I'll find something to do with you." Then he seized Harry's shoulders and pushed him down to his knees, a bit of broken tile grinding into Harry's kneecap. He still had a tight fistful of Harry's hair and with the other hand he hastily undid his belt buckle, then his zipper. Harry was slumped partway against the wall, breath coming hard, his mouth slack. He shut his lips, feeling dizzy. Blaise pulled out his erection, it was enormous and angry and red looking and Harry turned his head and stared at the opposite wall.

"Open your mouth Potter."

He couldn't do it. He was going to be sick.

"I said, open your fucking mouth." And he twisted the hand that was in Harry's hair until Harry's mouth fell open with an exclamation of pain. Blaise seized the opportunity to shove forward, now gripping Harry's jaw, and force himself down Harry's throat.

Harry choked around the mouthful and squirmed blindly, trying to pull away, but Blaise dug his fingernails into Harry's shoulders until he went limp with pain. Harry shut his eyes gagging and gagging as Blaise thrust into him again and again.

"That's it Potter," he grunted "Christ, fucking –virgins. Open up, wider. That's fucking _it_." He groaned loudly, again fisting Harry's hair with one hand, and started picking up the rhythm faster and faster. "I'll get it over for you this time, Potter. But next time don't- expect- any- fucking- pity." And then he twitched and forced Harry's face forward into his groin, clutching at his hair with both hands as he spilled into Harry's mouth.

He held him there for a moment, breathing heavily, before he pulled back, sticky with saliva and semen and blood. Harry was sliding down the wall, shaking violently, pants still around his ankles, one naked, bleeding knee pulled in against his chest.

"Stand up you fucking whore." Blaise reached down and pulled Harry up by his hair. Harry made a noise like a bone caught in his throat and put his hands out on either side of him so that he wouldn't fall.

Blaise laughed cruelly, "That was pathetic Potter, but we'll work on you. It won't take long for me to break you in, get you to do something useful with that pretty mouth of yours." He reached down and pulled Harry's pants up his filthy legs, pausing to give Harry a squeeze. He leaned forward, putting his mouth at Harry's ear and wiped himself on Harry's front. "Don't worry, we'll fix that in no time. Next time we'll get you to _really _bleed." And he laughed again, with his head back then shoved Harry in front of him. "Get out. But just remember what I said- what you promised. I'll find you tomorrow when I need you."

to be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

In You

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of J.K.Rowling.

Chapter Four

…..

"Excuse me Professor Snape?"

Severus looked up from the stack of papers he was grading. He was startled, he hadn't heard someone come in.

"Professor Snape?" It was Hermione Granger, standing in front of his desk, looking absolutely terrible. She had her hands clutched together, compulsively rubbing her fingers. She looked as if this was the last place on earth she wanted to be at the moment.

Severus sneered. "What do you want? Don't they teach you children to knock anymore?"

Hermione ignored the barb, she glanced nervously at the door and opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again.

Severus set down his quill, irritated. "Well?"

"Professor I- " and then she stopped herself, eyes wide with apprehension. She was still pulling nervously at her fingers, rocking a bit now, back and forth.

"Miss Granger! Will you please get on with it!" he snapped. "I have eight different lesson plans to finish for tomorrow, a pile of despicable first year papers to finish correcting and their lack of spelling skills are severely beginning to grate on my nerves, so if you'd please-"

"Something's the matter with Harry Potter," she blurted.

Severus' heart gave a strange lurch. "I'm sorry?"

"Something's the matter with Harry."

There was a long, cold silence. Severus could feel his heart rate increasing rapidly and all he was able to hear suddenly was his own pulse in his ears. He thanked heaven that he was blessed with such an ability to mask his emotions.

"What exactly are you talking about Miss Granger?" He had never heard his own voice so cold.

Hermione's cheeks were very red and she started talking very fast. "I'm afraid- I'm afraid someone's hurting him, he's been-" She stopped herself and swallowed thickly to catch her breath. "He's been going out at weird hours of the night, Ron says, and dissappearing at strange times during the day. He'll go missing for hours and hours in the afternoon and we'll have no idea where he's gone and then he comes back and he looks _awful._ " Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "The first time Ron saw him come in late there was blood all over his mouth and all these marks all over his face and Harry was shaking and wouldn't talk to him and he locked himself in the bathroom all night. But we think he's been using a spell to cover it up because we haven't seen anything that horrible since then but he just looks wretched. There aren't any bruises on him or anything but he doesn't talk anymore and he's always locking himself in the bathroom and he, he-"

She bit her lip and tears started spilling down her cheeks. "We don't know what to do anymore, and I didn't want to talk to anyone else because there _isn't_ anyone else and Harry seems to trust you and-"

"What?" Severus interrupted her. He could barely hear now, for the sound of his heart hammering in his ears. He was glad he was sitting; he was feeling slightly light-headed and was afraid that he wouldn't be able to stand.

"I said, he seems to trust you and I-"

"What are you talking about Granger? Potter despises me. How could the boy have even a shred of trust for me? Why didn't you go to your Head of House? Why have you come to me?"

Hermione looked stung, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "Because he _does_ trust you. You wouldn't think so but he really does. Lately he's started to forgive everything horrible that you do to him, he thinks you're really great. I don't know why, since you're still so awful to him, but he's always defending you lately. He and Ron even got in a fight over it last week. It's been horrible. But that was before everything's started happening and I don't know what to do. He's disappeared again and Ron and I are worried, we don't want him getting hurt anymore. The Headmaster isn't here. And I couldn't think of anyone else to go but you. It's just so awful and I don't know-" She couldn't go on as her words were swallowed in uncontrollable tears.

Snape stood up crossly. Thank god adrenaline seemed to have given him back use of his limbs. "Shh! Don't cry child. Calm down. Listen to me, go to Professor McGonagall and-"

"No!" She looked up angrily now, through her tears. "I told you he wants _you_!"

His face went very white. "I can't help Harry Potter. I just can't." Then he stopped himself. "What do you mean he wants me?"

Hermione's cheeks flamed. She looked down at the floor. "Ron heard him last night in his sleep. He hasn't been sleeping well either, it's like it was back with You-Know-Who. He's always thrashing around having horrible nightmares, but last night he was screaming out loud, like he was in terrible pain, and he woke up Ron and Ron said he was crying your name. He had to shake him awake because he was sobbing so hard." She bit her lip, three fresh tears spilling down over her cheeks. She put her face in her hands. "I shouldn't have told you that." The poor girl was utterly miserable.

She sobbed again, out loud. "But I just don't know what to do, I can't-"

"Alright, alright! Shh, I'll take care of it. Please control yourself. Where is he now? How long ago did he leave?"

The poor girl was in hysterics. "We-we don't know. He just left a little w-while ago. He told Ron he was going out for a walk but Ron wouldn't let him and then he hit Ron and-"

Severus sucked his breath in through his teeth. There was too much going on, he couldn't think. He needed to find somewhere to put Granger to calm her down. "Shhh. Shh, come with me."

He stood up very quickly, pulling on his coat. He motioned for Hermione to follow him as he went outside and shut the door to his office.

He brought the girl to McGonagall's office and Minerva immediately sat her down with a cup of tea. Severus pulled her off to the side and tried his best to explain the problem. "She said something's the matter with Potter, he's been sneaking out at strange hours of the night and coming back like he's been attacked by someone, with blood all over him, like he's been experiencing some sort of assault."

Minerva gasped, horrified and put a hand over her mouth. "You don't think…"

"No, I'm almost certain it's another student. But I want you to take care of Granger while I go and look for the boy."

"Where are you going to go?"

He shook his head. "I'll find him."

Minerva bit her lip, her eyes large with worry. "Thank you Severus. I'm not sure if I could-"

He raised a hand to silence her. "I understand."

"I'll bring him right to Poppy when I find him."

She nodded soundlessly.

"Don't worry."

….

Severus didn't know why, but his feet were leading him in the direction of the dungeons. There was some sick sense, some sick pulsing where his heart beat below his neck that helped his feet to keep moving.

He wasn't sure how he was doing it. In some far off corner of his brain, he knew that some part of him was taking over that took over in the most horrible scenarios. He had experienced it before, but this time it was worse, he knew it, it was infinitely worse.

He suspected what was going on. He wasn't letting his brain delve into the details for fear the horror would overwhelm him too greatly but it was an all too familiar topic for him. He'd seen it many times before.

He checked every abandoned location on every corridor. His compulsion and methodical nature aided him in situations like this. No empty classroom was left unturned. He checked especially the unused bathrooms. Every time he headed to a door his stomach would churn with sick fear.

He'd been searching for almost an hour when he came to an especially grimy toilet down near a corridor in the Ravenclaw wing. He was losing hope, simply because his fear was beginning to overwhelm him. Even the nerves of Severus Snape couldn't stand much more.

He'd pushed open the filthy door and peered around the ruined insides of the run-down bathroom. Nothing out of the ordinary had caught his eye, and he'd just been turning round to leave when he heard a small sound, like someone releasing a breath held crooked in their lungs.

His heart stopped.

He paused.

There was nothing.

Making sure to be absolutely silent he crept gently over the broken tile until he reached the stall door, which hung, broken on its hinges. His heart was now beating disturbingly fast but no thoughts were in his head, save what was behind that bathroom door. The fear was nearly killing him at this point, he couldn't bear another moment.

Slowly, he pushed open the stall door.

It took his eyes a moment to make out the shapes and shadows in the dim lighting but sure enough there was a small body bent into the corner of the toilet stall. The torch light above the toilet had long ago gone out and the interior of the dingy stall was cast in odd gray light.

Severus knelt gently down in front of the boy, everything in him freezing with fear and shock and at the same time, relief.

He studied Harry in silence, each heartbeat thickening as he took in more. He'd obviously reached him before he'd had time to put on a healing spell. His knees were drawn up tightly to his chest, his arms wrapped like iron around his knees. His face was hidden, all Severus could see was that untidy mop of dark hair buried in the top of his knees. There was blood winding down his wrist and Severus' heart clenched in fear.

He let himself breathe again and he hadn't meant to do it so loudly, but the breath stirred the silence like a gunshot and the boy's head shot up in alarm and Severus drew a horrified breath at what he saw.

Harry's glasses were gone and there was blood all over his face. Some of it was dried, caked and dark, like rinds of old chocolate, crusted at his temple and there was a fresh stripe of it that went dangerously close past his eye. An ugly purple bruise was fresh on his cheek and an older one yellowed at the corner of his mouth.

However it wasn't even so much the massacred landscape of Harry's face that filled Severus with fear, it was the look on the boy's face. Absolute horror, his eyes were wide with it, the deep green of his eyes somehow glittering more brilliantly amidst the ruin of his face. His open mouth was a smear of blood.

He looked like an animal, cornered. His body language, if possible, contracted into itself further. Severus tightened his hands fiercely at his sides. When he found out who'd done this…

Harry's eyes welled suddenly with tears. His eyes overflowed and the saltwater ran down over the blood. Severus saw him wince. His voice was like something from another body, it was strange and flat and sounded far away and it was painfully soft, he had to lean unconsciously forward just to make out what he said.

"What are you doing here?"

Severus shook his head softly. "It doesn't matter." He swallowed with effort. He wanted so badly to take the boy gently into his arms, every facet of his body was screaming at him to do just that but he knew he had to be so cautious. He was walking on the thinnest of ice. "This isn't going to happen anymore."

Harry's face crumpled with tears. His shoulders shook in a rhythm of shuddering sobs. He buried his face against his knees, arms tightening fiercely. One sneakered foot slid out from under him, in a sick gesture that was so clearly beyond his control. It was a dirty muggle tennis sneaker. The laces were undone and ridiculously frayed.

Severus said nothing. He was nearly shaking from the effort of checking his emotion.

Harry shook his head back and forth, as if he didn't realize Severus was there. His voice was ragged, it cut like a grate down Severus' heart.

"I can't do it anymore, I just can't I can't I can'tcan'tcan'tcant'-" His own words were interrupted by a sob.

"It's alright." Severus' voice cracked. This was ridiculous. But he couldn't let himself, he couldn't.

There was a long silence as Harry convulsed with sobs. Severus waited till his shoulders stopped shaking. Harry turned his sticky face to the side, breathing quick and panicked from where his head still pressed against his knees.

"Who's been doing this to you?"

Harry didn't say anything, he didn't look up.

"Harry."

Harry looked up, he'd heard the tone in Snape's voice, the way he'd said his name. He tipped his head down again, a tear dripping off his nose and falling dark on the material of his jeans.

He screwed up his eyes in anguish. Three more tears ran fast down his cheeks. He was so afraid, but more afraid that it would never stop.

"blaise zabini sir."

Severus sucked his breath in sharp. But he couldn't think about that now, that would come later. He watched the tears drip wretchedly off of Potter's cut up cheeks. He pursed his lips in silent anguish.

The boy had shut his eyes again, he was shaking his head back and forth. "I just can't, I can't I-"

He couldn't take it anymore, he put his hand out on Harry's warm thin arm. Never had anything felt more alive to him. "Shh. Come on, you've got to stand up. Come on."

"I can't.. I-I I…" the boy's words were overtaken with sobs. Severus suddenly noticed the violent tremoring in his legs and in his left hand, which was clenched into a desperate fist. "Oh please I don't-"

Severus stood up. It didn't matter anymore, his own stupid preoccupations, all that mattered was the boy's safety. Without a word Severus stooped and pulled the boy's loose body into his arms. It horrified him he was so light. Harry didn't protest, he still seemed in shock, his little legs flopping mournfully over the edge of his arms.

He carried him the nine flights to the hospital wing, Harry weeping silently into his chest. Never had anything felt to him so fragile, so precious in his arms. He couldn't believe any of it was happening. Luckily his mind had gone into emergency lock down and he was saved the trouble of coherent thought. His brain just registered things he was feeling, in a far off sort of way. The dampness of Harry's face in his chest, his pulse beating faintly but resolutely against the undersides of his hands.

He brought him in without a sound, the frantic horror of Madame Pomfrey thankfully muted in the still frame shock mode of his mind.

He laid him gently on one of the hospital beds and Madame Pomfrey frantically ushered him away so she could tend to the boy.

Harry let out a cry when he left his side and Severus looked back in surprise, wondering if he could have imagined the sound, convincing himself he had imagined the sound in his state of dire concern.

Madame Pomfrey shooed him out and then slammed the door with finality. Severus woodenly took a seat in one of the chairs.

His anger had distilled into an unnatural and unsettling calm. He could feel it pulsing through him and yet he was removed from it. He couldn't leave the hospital wing, not now he couldn't.

The gravity of the entire situation had not yet begun to take effect on him, and he worried that would not be the case for several hours yet. It was settling into him, deep into him and shifting something in his very center.

The thing that frightened him was that the boy's behavior had prompted something like hope to begin blooming faintly inside of him, and he couldn't allow that to happen. He had to stamp it out before things got out of hand. The way people acted in severe situations were by no means a reflection of their true feelings. He was disgusted with himself at the slightest suggestion that something could be happening. It sickened him that he would even begin to feel towards the boy in a situation such as this, when he was at his weakest.

Severus ran his hands absentmindedly over the raised marks on the inside flesh of his arms, scars from days ago that had only halfway healed. It was a nervous habit he found himself succumbing to lately, fingering the ugly ridges of flesh whenever his thoughts strayed toward the boy.

He sat in absolute silence in the waiting room until McGonagall came in and he took her aside and to the best of his ability explained what he knew of the situation. It was hard, hard even for her, especially in a time when cruelty was so rampant; to find it commonly among students was especially hard to take. They didn't yet speak of the consequences but the boy was sent for immediately to be kept under constant watch until Dumbledore returned.

Severus knew the situation had deeply shaken Minerva, and once they'd both been assured Potter was going to be alright (thank god for the healing powers of magic) he'd led her to her room.

He went back to the hospital wing to wait, even after he'd led Minerva back. He knew he ought to leave, but there seemed something horrifically wrong in leaving, he couldn't place the feeling except that he knew it felt sincere, it felt intense, it felt so wrong to be leaving the boy.

He stayed as long as he knew he could without notice, in that silent waiting room, just sitting, back very straight, unmoving. He waited until he knew Madame Pomfrey might come out and see him, and then he left painfully, feeling it was unnatural for him to do so.

He knew the boy was going to be fine, his concern was entirely irrational. He knew the Zabini boy wasn't going to get away with this, in fact the boy's punishment was already under way. The situation was entirely under control and yet there was a panic like he'd never felt before, a restlessness that kept him up and pacing his small study. He couldn't even bring himself to finish the stack of papers he'd been so focused on earlier in the evening.

Instead he sat at his desk, hands folded before him, staring tirelessly into the embers of his fire, feeling a despair opening inside him like he'd never known. It horrified him yet there was nothing he could do to curb the feeling. The only thing he felt might cure it was lying somewhere upstairs in that hospital wing.

He put his face in his hands, overwhelmed with despair.

He had in fact, been so distraught earlier, that he hadn't noticed that he'd left the door to his chambers unlocked and the door to his study, slightly ajar.

It was a freak occurrence in the life of Severus Snape to leave commonplace things out of the ordinary and any casual observer of the scene would have noted immediately that something was seriously wrong with the man.

When a small knock sounded softly on the half-open door of his office, his heart seemed to stutter to a halt. He looked up sharply and his eyes went wide at the sight before him.

There was Harry Potter standing in front of his desk in a pair of too large pajamas, a fading bruise on his left cheek and a crisscross of nasty cuts being hastily healed by magic, like a fading checkerboard on his ivory face. He looked very weak, maybe only half there, like a ghost of himself. He entreated his professor with wide eyes, his irises a vibrant jade because of the pale blue of his hospital pajamas. His voice was very quiet, yet resolved.

"Could we sit on the couch please Professor? There's something I need to tell you but I don't think I can keep standing."

Severus could hardly help but stare for several moments, the sick despair and self-loathing that had been souring his insides, all momentarily forgotten. He blinked several times, then remembering himself, stood up very rapidly and went to sit down on the black sofa by the fire.

The Potter boy sat quietly beside him. Severus said nothing. It seemed to him he'd never realized before how small the boy actually was. The amount of cubic space he occupied was hardly anything at all, therefore it seemed remarkable to Severus that a creature so small could occupy such presence in his thoughts.

"I actually lied. First, I have a question for you."

Severus didn't say anything. He stared into the flames, black eyes liquid in the firelight.

Harry's hands were in his lap, and he stared at them, picking absently at the frayed edge of his pajamas. His voice was still so quiet. "I know you knew what happened to me earlier." Harry's lips puckered, as if the words brought an unpleasant taste. "I don't know how you know, but I know that you do."

Harry drew a ragged breath. "He hurt me… a lot. And I want to feel better, I mean- Madame Pomfrey made me-" his hand flickered to the latticework of scars across his cheek, "I mean she took care of… I mean I still hurt. Inside. And I don't-" Harry shut his eyes. He stuck his chin out with a sigh, baring his throat, as if the words brought him physical pain.

With an effort, he turned to look at Severus. "You're the only one I know who can make it better."

Harry stared at him, unblinking and Severus was stricken with the acuity in the boy's gaze, the sharp and focused intelligence in those brilliant green eyes. He found himself locked in the boy's line of vision and unable to look away, and in one sharp moment he was reminded of his most recent dream.

"Can you make me better?"

Reviled with himself, Severus shook his head.

"Please."

He'd shut his eyes, he couldn't trust himself under the scrutiny of Harry's gaze.

"Please Professor…"

The boy didn't understand what he was doing, he was in a state of severe shock, it would be wrong to take advantage of him at this point, he was confused…

Harry slid very close to him. He was sitting on his knees. His voice was a whisper now, his words were sharp with sorrow. "You can't understand this pain I've got inside me. It's why I got into this whole mess in the first place. It's killing me slowly…" He leaned forward a little so that his lips were inches from Severus's cheek.

He pushed a lock of dark hair behind Severus's ear, with a tenderness he'd only thought possible to imagine and he leaned in a bit closer, this time letting his lips just brush the skin of his cheek.

He kissed him there, gently, with shut eyes, dark lashes quivering above his scarred cheeks.

Severus couldn't bear it, his heart was breaking, splintering what was this boy doing to him?

He recoiled from him slightly. "We can't do this. I can't. We can't."

Harry looked melancholy but he bent forward again, this time searching for his mouth. But before his lips could connect Severus pushed him, this time violently away. "NO! We CANNOT!"

Harry fell back on his hands, eyes welling immediately with tears. He shook his head. "You don't understand." He was clambering back up on his knees again, little hands fisting and insistent. He put his hands on Severus' shoulder, desperate and pushed him back so that they were face to face. Hot tears were streaming down his cheeks, "I love you," he whispered, "I love you. I love you so much I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't sleep, I can't do this anymore. Please, oh just let me…"

He pushed Severus backward, his tears dripping fierce onto Severus's cheeks. "Please just let me kiss you, oh please, just this once… I need to." His legs slipped down on either side of him and Severus didn't know what to do, everything in him was telling him that this was what was supposed to happen, this was right but he still felt wrong about it. It was like he was being sliced in half inside.

However when Harry put his lips down against his, all of his doubt melted away. It was right. There was nothing in the universe that could tell him that any part of this could ever be wrong.

Harry was perfect, it was perfect, the softness of his desperate mouth, the way his nose mashed sideways into Severus's with the hurriedness of the kiss—but it was sweet hurriedness and he knew instantly that everything he'd been feeling, Harry felt exactly. He knew it all from the kiss, it was like looking suddenly into his own heart and the pieces in him that had been so violently ruptured, clicked into place.

He brought his arms up around Harry and pulled him down against him, craving now to feel all of him at once. He began kissing him, all over, his mouth wasn't enough. He needed to taste him all at once, he kissed the delicate lacing of scars across his cheek, the bruises on his tender neck.

Harry cried, he shook against him with joy, legs still trembling violently with emotion and held on so tight. He laid on him, too weak to do anything else, but Severus held him and felt Harry's tears drip hot and sweet onto his cheeks.

He rolled Harry gently to his side, so that he was no longer on top but wrapped neatly in Severus's arms and Harry clung to him and he wrapped his arms tight around him and let his mouth rest warm against Harry's cheek.

Harry smiled through his tears.

Sweetly and oh so gently, Severus kissed the top of Harry's head, and he knew that the words he murmured into Harry's scalp were felt rather than heard. "I love you Harry Potter."

….

End.


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